


A Little Therapy

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Marking, Panic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scisaac - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Isaac are captured by hunters and thrown together in a space not quite big enough for two. Scott tries to help Isaac stay calm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kissoffools](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissoffools/gifts).



> I started this in the afternoon and was about halfway done when the stocking reveal started. Sorry I didn't make it in time, and forgive any errors I might have missed (so far)!
> 
> Happy 2014!
> 
> P.S. Derek, Allison, Stiles and Lydia make only a brief appearance. This is a Scott/Isaac-centered story. And I think it's a lot lighter than the tags make it seem, but I wanted to put them there to warn people who want no part of a story that references those things.

Scott woke and groaned at the cramps in his thighs. He was on his feet, his knees bent and pressed into the wall, his back against another wall, as if he’d fallen asleep standing up and slip down until his body caught in the small space. He looked with his wolf eyes, and could see only smooth walls. Smooth walls so close together that he couldn’t even drop to his knees without being wedged uncomfortably. Scott sniffed, recoiling at the musty scent with a trace of mildew, as if the space he was in had been damp at one time. Above his head, he could stretch his arm and brush the ceiling with his fingertips.

He was in a rectangular box. _Like a coffin. At least I’m upright_.

A flash of light as the wall opened blinded Scott. He lifted his arms to cover his eyes, then braced to lunge at whomever or whatever had opened it.

Scott was knocked back against the wall by Isaac slamming into him, hurled into the box by an outside force. Before he could push Isaac out of the way, the box was closed again. Scott clawed at the wall--it felt like cement, but smooth. He turned himself and Isaac, and slammed his shoulder against it as much as he could, but it didn’t even rattle.

Isaac’s eyes glowed wide above him. “It’s no use. There were steel bands around the outside they had to unlock to throw me in.” He rubbed his neck, his elbow cracking against Scott’s jaw as he reached up. “Sorry. They gave me something that made me too weak to fight them.”

Scott hadn’t felt weak when he woke, but maybe he’d been out long enough for it to wear off. “Is it still affecting you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“When it wears off, we’ll both try.”

“Steel bands, Scott. Several of them.”

“We have to do _something_.” He reached up to scratch his neck, his elbow hitting Isaac’s chest, because there was almost no room to move with both of them in there. “Who put you in here? How did they get you? When--”

“Whoa, whoa, Scott. One thing at a time.” Isaac reached up to run his fingers through his hair, catching Scott on the side of the head with his elbow. “Sorry. I . . . don’t remember much. Everything’s a blur. I was looking for you, and then something stuck my neck, a couple of guys in ordinary clothes--I think they were hunters, had lots of weapons--threw me in here. That’s it. What do you remember?”

Scott sighed. “Nothing. I was headed to Stiles’ house so he could help me study, and then I woke up here.”

“When you didn’t show up, he called everybody, worried something was wrong.”

Scott smiled. “Way to go, Stiles.”

“Yeah.” Isaac breathed heavily, and kept trying to shift, bumping Scott, hitting him with his elbows, stepping on his toes a couple of times.

“Isaac? It’s okay. There’s not much room, I know, but fidgeting isn’t going to change that.” He put a hand on Isaac’s chest and patted. “Breathe slowly.”

Isaac nodded, but he didn’t calm down. “I know, I know. It’s just . . . that smell. It reminds me.” He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, as if he was getting no air. His fang lengthened and a low growl sounded louder than it should have inside the box. “Scott . . . .”

“Okay, dude, you’re freaking out, and you can’t. Isaac!” He took Isaac’s face in his hands. “You. Can’t. If you do that here, you’ll try to attack me, and we’ll fight, and it’ll probably end pretty badly for both of us. Calm down. Think of something pleasant.”

Isaac shook his head, nearly shaking off Scott’s hands. “I don’t want to be in here, I can’t be in here again, I can’t--”

“This is not the freezer, Isaac. Not the freezer!”

Isaac’s high-pitched whine broke Scott’s heart. “I can’t--I can’t--”

“You’re okay. You’re not in the freezer. And you’re not alone.” He dropped one hand to Isaac’s chest again. “I’m right here with you, buddy. Say it for me. Say _this is not the freezer_.” Scott patted his chest.

Isaac struggled to get the words out.“This . . . is not . . . the freezer. This is . . . _not_ . . . the freezer.” His breathing started to slow, and his eyes dimmed a little.

 _“_ Good, that’s good. You’re with me. It’s okay. Think about how strong you are, how unafraid you can be. You get lacrosse balls hurtled at your head all the time.”

“That’s . . . different.”

“Different than getting a glass thrown at you, I know, but still, you’re not afraid on the field.”

“It’s the intent. If you threw a ball at me in anger . . . it would be different.”

“I wouldn’t.” He patted Isaac’s chest.

“I know.”

Now that Isaac was calming down, they had to focus on getting out of there. They both started slamming against and clawing at the walls, but made no progress.

“How can it feel this solid . . . I don’t even see air holes,” Isaac said, and Scott could hear his heartbeat tick up again.

“Air’s getting in, Isaac. Don’t worry.”

“I--I know,” he said, clawing at the wall again. “You’ve been missing for three hours. No air, you’d be dead by now.”

“Comforting thought.” Scott heard the heartbeat speed up even more, and knew them struggling to get free was in danger of panicking Isaac again. “Let’s just stop and rest. And think.”

“Scott, I--I can’t think. I didn’t see who it was, I don’t know why they took you or brought me here . . . god, I just want _out_ of here.”

“And we’ll get out of here, even if it means just staying calm until help arrives. You did let Derek know where you’d be, right?”

“I let everyone know. They’ll come looking, and I hope they have better luck than I did.”

He put both hands on Isaac’s chest, patting in what he hoped was a soothing way. “Two of us missing, they’ll stick together. You know no hunters stand a chance against the whole pack, right?” He pushed gently and smiled.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, does my mom--”

“No, she has no idea.”

“Good, don’t want her to worry.”

Isaac’s heartbeat wasn’t as calm as he’d have liked. He needed to distract him from their predicament even more.

“That we’re together here, I know that means everything’s going to be okay,” Scott said. “Because if something happened to us, Mom’d be alone. And that’s _not_ happening. Right?”

“Right. No-no way.”

“No way.”

Isaac took a couple of deep breaths, then his hand rested on top of one of Scott’s on his chest. “I love your mom. You know that, right? She’s the best.”

“Yeah, to all that.”

“You guys taking me in . . . .”

“Hey, that’s what friends do. What pack does.”

Isaac pressed Scott’s hand. “How long do you think we’ll be in here?”

“Not long. Stop thinking about it.”

“Considering we’re crammed in here together this way, it’s impossible _not_ to think about it.”

Damn it if Isaac’s heartbeat didn’t increase again. “Stop it, Isaac. Think of something pleasant, something that makes you happy.”

“I’m trying, but the thing that makes me happiest right now . . . is you. And thinking of you keeps bringing me right back to _trapped in a tiny, dark space._ ”

Scott tilted his head. “Me? Isaac, that’s . . . you’re sweet.”

Isaac barked out a laugh. “No, no I’m not.”

“Actually, you are. Ever since you got over the growly, wanna-be-badass phase you went through at first. Hey, I went through some stuff right after I was bitten, too. It gets to you. Especially, well, when you’ve . . . .”

“Got a lot to be pissed about?” Isaac snorted a little, and Scott realized he’d led them right back to what he was trying to distract Isaac from in the first place. “Scott, this isn’t going to work. I’m going to freak out, and you’re just going to have to break my neck or something.”

He took Isaac’s hand in his, both of them resting against Isaac’s chest. “You know when cats or dogs are afraid of something, they can be made not afraid of it through something called counterconditioning. It goes from an object of fear to something with pleasant associations.”

“Yeah? Like animal therapy?”

“Yeah. Of course, they’re made less afraid of it first, desensitized to it, and we don’t have time for that. But then the object or whatever it is gets connected with pleasant things in its mind. They’re not bothered anymore, and may even like whatever it was they were afraid of.”

“Not a dog or a cat.”

“You’re a wolf.” Scott smiled.

Isaac laughed. “Vet assistant to the rescue, then. So what do I do?”

“Imagine something you really, really like--a favorite food, a place, anything--and imagine it’s inside this box and everything’s okay. Just think about something really pleasant in the context of the box.”

“I like . . . cheesecake. Yeah. I really like cheesecake.”

“Okay.”

“So I should imagine it’s full of cheesecake?”

“Try it.”

Isaac closed his eyes. “No, no, the cheesecake just makes us more confined, and we’d keep sticking our elbows in it. But you--you’re already here. And I like you.”

“Then focus on me. On, uh, how much you like me. Something pleasant.”

“Okay.” Isaac took several deep breaths in through his nose, but his heartbeat didn’t slow down.

“It’s not working,” Scott said, alarmed. “Think of something else.”

“Oh, it--it’s working.”

Isaac’s heartbeat didn’t make it seem so, but if he--

 _Oh_.

Scott didn’t speak for a few moments, but found it hard to keep himself calm when surrounded by the warm, spicy scent of Isaac who was now decidedly aroused. Not only was the air thick with it, Scott could feel it. He could feel it--because he’d leaned forward enough that they were pressed firmly together.

_When did that happen?_

“You smell really . . . good,” Scott whispered. “Not that you don’t always smell good, but now you smell _good_.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And yep, Scott’s body wasn’t about to let Isaac’s get ahead. He blew out a quick breath and slid his hand down between them--it rubbed over Isaac’s hardness as it went, wringing a strangled sound from Isaac--to cup himself and shift a bit. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to Scott that this was happening. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed Isaac before, in that way. But it wasn’t ideal for it to happen _here_. _Now._

Or maybe it was.

The urge to stroke himself was only made worse by the way he could feel Isaac tensing and relaxing in front of him. And there was Isaac’s hand, pressing against his own crotch, going through the same thing as Scott.

Scott slid his hand up, the back rubbing over the mound in Isaac’s pants. Isaac straightened and slammed the back of his head against the wall. “Ow.”

“Sorry! Should I not--”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Scott unzipped Isaac’s trousers and pushed them down, then pushed his underwear below the bulge. Isaac gasped when he was freed and Scott wrapped his hand around him. “Oh, that--that’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Scott breathed, as he began stroking Isaac, his other hand sliding down to his own groin and pressing. He wanted more than anything to free himself and rut against Isaac, but their height difference posed a problem.

Isaac started fumbling with Scott’s jeans, and in leaning down slightly to reach, knocked their foreheads together. “Ow, sorry.”

“S’ok. Just . . . .” Scott unzipped himself and pushed the material down so that he was free of his jeans and underwear. Before he could even sigh at the feeling, Isaac reached for him. There wasn’t room for both their fists between them, so they each tried to shift a different direction. The space was too small, and everything but the body parts they wanted to touch got bumped, nudged and jarred.

“Why are you so _tall_?”

“Why are you _not_?”

“Look, let yourself slide down just a little, bend your knees . . . .” That was closer, but there was still too much difference for them to rub together. “Take your--take your boots off,” he said, his breath coming faster as Isaac managed to stroke him while he somehow kept stroking Isaac. They had to pause every few strokes to shift, but it would do if nothing else worked.

“My boots?”

“Yes, your damn, thick-soled boots. As if you’re not tall enough.”

Isaac struggled to push one boot off with the toes of the other, kneeing Scott in an unfortunate way in the process.

“Jesus!”

“Shift over, just . . . .” Then he managed to get the other off.

Almost there. Scott felt around with his feet for the boots Isaac had just taken off.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna stand on your boots.”

“Don’t scuff ‘em.”

Scott stopped and stared at Isaac, his lips pressed together, the glow of their eyes illuminating their faces.

“I mean, okay, yeah, that might work.”

It did, sort of. It was awkward, and Scott felt wobbly, and the calves of Isaac’s boots were folded flat so Scott could stand on the soles. But they almost met perfectly together, their hips rolling in sync.

“Jump.”

Scott swallowed. “What?”

“Jump just a little. I can make us even.” He let go of Scott, both hands sliding under his buttocks.

Scott jumped, just a little, and Isaac caught him with his hands and his body. Isaac shifted forward, pinning Scott against the wall. Scott wrapped his arms around Isaac’s neck and shoulders, but he couldn’t bring his legs around Isaac’s hips in so small a space. It didn’t matter--Isaac’s body and hands held him in place.

Then Isaac rocked his hips in the most perfect way. Both of them moaned, and Scott did what he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done yet. His mouth met Isaac’s, already open, tongue ready to slip between those shapely lips. He’d wanted to kiss Isaac for a while now. His bow-shaped upper-lip fascinated Scott sometimes, and he’d catch himself staring. At school. At home.

He sucked that lip between his teeth and bit down gently, enough to make Isaac gasp, before sliding his tongue along Isaac’s and moaning at a well-placed thrust of hips against his.

The heat building up in the box and the scent of them mingling together made Scott want to howl. He would have, if they weren’t being held captive. He’d have growled and snapped and howled, his wolf finally getting what it had needed for a long time.

“Isaac,” he growled around slightly-extended teeth. He slid his fingers into the soft, curly hair at the back of Isaac’s head, pulled to the side, and bit down on the juncture of Isaac’s neck and shoulder, sucking hard. Isaac’s growl came out more like a half-howl as he rocked faster and faster against Scott until they both tensed and shouted in pleasure, wetness spreading between them.

Only after Isaac stopped grinding against him, just pinning him to the wall instead, did Scott release his bite on Isaac’s neck. He hadn’t broken the skin, or if he had it was just an abrasion, no punctures, but he’d bruised it. He’d meant to.

He leaned his head back, but was caught by Isaac’s kiss before he could say anything. And that was fine, he’d rather do that than talk anyway.

They both flinched at the sound of gunfire, growls, a few shouts. The pack had arrived. Isaac let Scott drop to his feet, where he stumbled, catching one of Isaac’s boot with only half his foot. “Don’t even try to get those back on until we’re out of here. Your knees, man, they’re dangerous,” Scott said, smiling, as he scrambled to get his pants back in place before someone popped their box open.

Isaac got himself straightened up. Scott listened carefully for voices, but could only make out sounds of a fight. He let his hand slide up Isaac’s neck, over the bruised spot, to tangle in his hair and carefully pull him down enough to kiss him again.

Something banged against their box, and they jerked apart, each slamming his head into the wall. “Gotta stop doing that,” Isaac said.

The box opened, the light making both of them hiss and cover their eyes. When their sight adjusted, they could see Derek, Stiles, Lydia and Allison in the room. Derek's torn shirt was bloody, but everyone else looked fine. A pair of booted feet belonging to a hunter stuck out from behind a box. That dude was not so fine.

“You two okay?” Derek took a step forward, then jerked his chin up and leaned back as if he’d hit a wall. “Wow.”  

“What’s wrong?” Stiles was at his side in a second, looking for the problem.

Derek crossed his arms and turned his face a little, took a deep breath. “We were concerned.”

Scott knew Derek could smell them, but at least he wasn’t bitching about it in front of everyone else who _couldn’t_. He took Isaac’s arm and pulled him from the box.

Isaac took a deep breath and smiled. “Oh, that’s better,” he said. “Thanks.”

“We’re okay,” Scott said. “They just threw us in there with no explanation.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “We thought they might have killed you.” He looked them up and down. “Clearly, you’re fine.” He walked away, huffing a couple of times as if trying to get their scent out of his nose.

Stiles smiled at them. And kept smiling at them. Scott thought it was getting a little creepy.

“So. Trapped together. In a tiny space. Must have been _horrible_.” Stiles smiled like he knew something they didn’t.

“Oh my god,” Lydia said. “Teenaged boys.” She followed Derek. Allison sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as if she were trying not to laugh. Her dimples gave her away. She followed Lydia out.

Derek shouted from the front of the group. “Come on! Do you really want to be here if anyone else shows up?”

At least he didn’t sound too angry. He just sounded like Derek, Scott realized. Derek’s ordinary level of angry. That was almost better than that damn _smile_. “Stiles, you’re freaking me out.”

Stiles wedged between Scott and Isaac, a hand on each of their backs. “I’m glad you two are okay, good that you’re not dead or anything. Glad you, um, had each other through such a trying time.”

Scott frowned at Stiles. Could he tell? Could they all tell? Stiles raised his eyebrow and nodded without Scott even having to ask the question.

“How?” Scott managed to say aloud.

“You both have that special glow,” Stiles said. “Unmistakable.”

Lydia shouted back at them. “It’s that special _something_ all over your shirts.”

Scott looked down at himself and closed his eyes with a sigh.

“And your swollen lips.” Allison had given up trying not to laugh.

“If nothing else, Isaac's mammoth hickey would give you away. Thought you were going to get away with it, didn’t you?” Stiles clapped Scott on the back. “Might want to have your mom soak those shirts. Cold water. Hot’ll set it in.” Stiles laughed and ran ahead to catch up with the others.

“You--you would know!” Scott shouted after him.

“Yes I would!”

“Oh, I forgot he has no shame.” Scott grinned at Isaac, who frantically tucked the worst part of his shirt into his pants. “Let’s let them deal with figuring out what these guys wanted. I think that’s the least we deserve after their mockery, right? Let’s go home and . . . try it again?”

“This time, not in a small, enclosed space? Like your big, open bedroom?”

“Deal.” He pulled Isaac to him for another kiss. “And then . . . how do you feel about shower stalls?”

“Bathroom light on, door opens easily, I’m a fan.”

Scott laughed and hooked a thumb through Isaac’s belt loop as they walked out.


End file.
